


If They Did But Know

by Moose_and_Destiel



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blow Job, Dirty Talk, Dom!Jensen, Fucking, M/M, TCA 2019 coda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-08-10 15:28:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20137705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moose_and_Destiel/pseuds/Moose_and_Destiel
Summary: A Cockles fic inspired by the words on the back of Jensen’s white Gucci jacket he wore to the 2019 TCAs





	If They Did But Know

Misha had said they’d be experiencing all of their “lasts” this season and as much as Jensen didn’t want to admit it, he was right. He’d directed his last episode, went to his last SDCC, and now he was at his last Television Critics Association for Supernatural. It was all a little bittersweet. He hated saying goodbye, but he loved having the cast-mates that had so quickly become his family by his side. It was another press shoot, another photo opportunity for him to enjoy and he chose to focus on that instead of it being another “last.” 

But he had to go out with a bang. And in true Ackles fashion, donned an ivory, cotton jersey suit with red, white, and blue trim and the words inscribed in black lettering on the back that he knew would haunt him and the fans for the rest of his days. 

“If they did but know what?” Misha asked, leaning over to whisper in Jensen’s ear while Jared held the microphone. 

His sudden hot breath against his skin caught Jensen off guard and he paused for a moment, a confused expression on his face.

Misha chuckled. “Your jacket, dumbass. If they did but know what?” 

“Oh. Uh...” Jensen paused again, his cheeks warming slightly and he could only hope none of the interviewers asked him that later because he hadn’t come up with an acceptable answer yet. “Ask Gucci,” he finally replied, only to be met with a grand eye roll from Misha. 

“Hey, quit whispering to each other. I can’t be the one answering everything,” Jared muttered to them through gritted teeth once the microphone had been passed over to Alex. 

Jensen muttered a quiet apology while Misha continued to smirk. 

Jensen had changed into a black Hawaiian shirt decorated with white pineapples paired with a simple black jacket once the teasing over his original outfit had grown relentless, the majority of it stemming from Misha who refused to accept his previous answer.

“Are you happy now?” Jensen muttered to Misha as they all stood in a line for the photo. 

“That you just smacked my ass in front of everyone?” He replied cheekily, that perpetual smirk never leaving his face. 

“That I changed my outfit,” Jensen snapped, clearly not in the mood for Misha’s teasing at the moment. 

“No, I liked the jacket. Just didn’t understand what the hell it meant. But this one’s nice too.” 

“Oh.” Jensen cracked a small smile. “Thank you.” 

“But I’ll tell you, I was very much looking forward to tearing that expensive jacket right off of you tonight.” Misha shot him a wink, then flashed his most innocent smile for the camera. 

“Come on down a little bit. Will you, guys?” the photographer suddenly spoke, snapping Jensen out of his daze and causing him to step to the side in an awkward crab-like fashion to prevent his pristine white pants from clinging too tightly to his crotch. Misha never had to do much to rile to him up, especially in public. Jared’s snide, “that’s what she said” provided a nice enough distraction, however. 

“I gotcha there, didn’t I?” Misha leaned in to whisper as they were walking to the after party. 

Jensen didn’t respond. He’d had enough of Misha’s relentless teasing for the night. It was time for another distraction: booze. He’d picked up a few habits from his old friend Dean Winchester and though he never drank nearly as steadily as his hunter counterpart did, it always managed to relieve some tension or as Misha often put it, “remove the stick from his ass.” 

The night wore on, Jensen and Misha both slightly tipsy and the three of them getting thrown out of the party before the damage could get worse. 

The hotel welcomed Jensen with open arms after a tiring day and after bidding goodnight to Jared and Alex, he grabbed Misha by the wrist and dragged him out of the elevator toward their room. 

“Whoa. Someone’s not happy with me. Need I remind you who slapped whose ass tonight?” Misha asked, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

“Shut up,” Jensen snapped, pulling him into the room and dead-bolting the door behind them. “I’ve really had enough of you, you know? Always trying to get me to break in front of everyone, teasing me relentlessly. you deserved that spank.”

“My bad, Jensen.” Misha shrugged. “I thought you wore your white pants for a reason tonight.” 

“See? That. How can you be so nonchalant about everything? Shit. I just wanna...I dunno...”

“Show me who’s boss?” He asked with a raised eyebrow. 

“Yeah, actually.” 

“Then, do it.” 

The fire in Jensen’s eyes calmed and he turned to look at Misha, his eyes trailing over his black shirt and to the belt buckle. Jensen grabbed him by his belt and tugged him forward without a second thought, breath warm against his neck as he began to undo it. 

He slid the belt off and pushed his fingers up Misha’s shirt, letting his fingers dance across his hot skin. He then pressed his thumbs into the small dips of Misha’s hip bones, a low snarl emitting from the back of his throat. 

“You deserve this, Misha. All the teasing, all the baiting. You’ve had it coming for a long time, ever since JIB.” 

“I thought you liked what I did to you at JIB,” Misha replied, his breath strained as Jensen’s lips met his neck, his tongue flicking out to lick and suck at the delicate flesh. 

“Everyone’s gonna know now, Mish. You’re gonna be marked and this is your own goddamn doing.” 

“You didn’t like what I did to you at JIB?” Misha pressed, determined not to let Jensen’s actions overcome him, even as his pants came undone and were pushed down and Jensen’s index finger delicately traced along his inner thigh. 

“That’s not the point,” Jensen replied plainly between kisses, his teeth sinking into the soft flesh where Misha’s neck met his shoulder, his fingers continuing their path along his thighs. He scraped his blunt nails just beside Misha’s steadily swelling cock, wanting to draw out the desperate moans that Misha still refused to give him.

“Oh, need I remind you?” Misha was determined still, to egg him on, to push Jensen to his breaking point so he could have the roughness he’d always craved. “When I clamped my hand over your mouth backstage and prodded at your ass with my tongue? How you silently begged me to let you come before we had to go back onstage? How hard your cock was, throbbing steadily in my hand and those sweet, sweet sounds you made when I finally let you. Then how I turned you to face me so you could watch me lick every last drop from my fingers? You couldn’t have forgotten, sweetheart.” 

Jensen’s breath caught in his throat, but he pressed on, cupping his hand around Misha’s crotch, stroking him slowly through the thin fabric until he finally heard it, a soft, pleasureful grunt uttered from Misha’s lips. 

“I could never forget that, Mish,” he muttered, then crashed their lips together, letting his tongue slip into Misha’s mouth. The hot, burning desire he’d struggled through all night finally culminating into this moment. Jensen could have him now and for once, Misha was letting him take charge. Take exactly what he wanted, and he’d take full advantage of it. He tasted the warmth of his tongue, Misha’s cologne intoxicating him as his lips caressed the hint of stubble around his mouth. 

But Misha didn’t give him full control. He had Jensen’s pants off and his fingers trailed dangerously close to his cock, wondering if he’d do something about it, but Jensen didn’t, too consumed in trying to make Misha moan that he didn’t notice until it was too late. His boxer-briefs were gone, Misha’s hand curled around his cock and his thumb brushed across the sensitive head, smearing pre-cum. 

“Mish!” Jensen howled, his eyes squeezing shut. 

“What?” Misha murmured. “You didn’t stop me...”

“Fuck you.” And it soon became a contest, the men testing each other, seeing which could be pushed over the edge with kisses and sucks and licks, strokes and squeezes and scratches. Misha still egged him on, baiting him with his breathy words. 

“C’mon, baby boy. Give me what I deserve.” 

That was it. Jensen’s breaking point. ‘Baby boy.’ He turned Misha around and shoved him back onto the bed, his palm pressed against his chest. Buttons flew, ricocheting around the room as Misha’s shirt was torn open, then slid off and Jensen attacked him. It was a rough, insatiable hunger he had to quell, his lips fitting around Misha’s nipple, teeth grazing and scraping until it was hard. He looked up into Misha’s eyes, his own blazing as he unbuttoned his shirt before Misha could do him the same disservice. Like so many times before, he was captivated by that deep, unforgiving blue, his desire churning in the pit of his stomach as he sank down between Misha’s legs and wrapped his lips around the head of his cock. 

Misha frowned, looking down at him. “That’s all you’re gonna do, suck me off? Clearly I didn’t try hard enough.” He gave Jensen a sympathetic smile and brushed his fingers through his hair as he swallowed Misha down, bobbing his head and holding back gags as Misha’s length tickled the back of his throat. 

It wasn’t easy, especially as Jensen’s mouth was hot, his tongue tantalizing as it caressed a prominent vein, but he grabbed a handful of Jensen’s hair and tugged, forcing him to pull back and look up at him. Misha’s cock slipped out of his mouth, slick and shiny with saliva and it took everything in him not to groan at the sight. 

“You’re not reminded of enough, are you?” He asked, grabbing ahold of Jensen’s arm and tugging him back up to sit beside him. Their faces became centimeters apart, so close that Jensen could feel Misha’s lips move against his own as he spoke. He tried to kiss him, but Misha wouldn’t let him. 

“How about I remind you of Australia? When you called me from the restaurant bathroom and I made you fuck yourself with an ice cube? How I spent that night in London sweet talking you over the phone until you came over and over by your own hand? How much you wished I was there in your arms. Well now I’m here.” His voice had grown soft, the palm of his hand gently stroking Jensen’s cheek and soft kisses were pressed to his lips between words. 

“Jensen. I want you to fuck me. You’re not taking any of my hints, so I have to say it outright. You’re ready for it.” 

Jensen’s heart sped up and he nodded at Misha, watching him stand and dig around in his suitcase until he retrieved a bottle of lube. He presented it to Jensen like a trophy, then lay back across the bed, parting his legs.

“You know what to do.”

Jensen nodded and knelt in front of Misha, taking a moment to admire his tan, muscular body before coating his fingers in lube and easing one slowly inside of him, twisting and thrusting until he’d created enough give to add a second, then a third. And there it was, a moan. A low, guttural cry from the back of Misha’s throat that sent heat straight to Jensen’s own cock, causing it to throb as his fingers glided easily in and out of him. 

He slowly released him, sliding out one finger at a time before slathering a generous amount of lube onto his shaft and laying between Misha’s legs. Closing his eyes, he slid inside of him, Misha hot and tight and so much more delicious than he’d ever expected. 

“That’s it.” Misha looked down at him with a smile and brought him closer so Jensen could kiss him tenderly as he began to thrust. Misha wrapped his legs around Jensen’s waist, his moans growing as his speed increased. 

“Oh, fuck, Jen!” Misha’s head went back and Jensen’s confidence grew, his lips gliding all across his face and down his neck as he fucked him thoroughly, his stomach grinding down against Misha’s cock. Each delicious moan from the man’s lips pushed Jensen further and soon he came inside him, filling him and making Misha moan even louder until his own release spilled across their abdomens. 

“I knew you could do it.” Misha smiled again, gently caressing his face as Jensen slipped out of him and collapsed into a breathless heap beside him, his chest heaving. 

“Yeah, shit.” Jensen chuckled, all the tension from the night released by that orgasm. 

Misha pulled him into his arms, his fingers combing through his hair as Jensen rested his head upon his broad chest. “Now, tell me. What the fuck does that stupid jacket mean?”

And this time, Jensen had an answer. “If they did but know. If they all knew how much you meant to me, Mish. I know it’s cheesy, but the show’s coming to an end and as hard as it is for me to accept it, we won’t be seeing each other as often anymore. I wanted to wear something subtle, but mean enough to give us something to share while everyone else is left guessing. I love you, Misha. And if you ‘did but know’ how much, I wouldn’t even need to wear that jacket.” 

“You, Jensen, are the sappiest, most cliche motherfucker I have ever met, and I write poetry.” Misha laughed, kissing the top of his head. “But, thank you. And I love you too, you know? Even if you do wear Gucci.” 

Jensen smiled, glancing up to meet Misha’s eyes one last time before he settled into his chest and closed his own eyes. “We got an early flight tomorrow, so we’d better get some sleep.”

Misha nodded, keeping Jensen wrapped up in his arms. “If you behave yourself tomorrow, I’ll fuck you in the airplane bathroom.”

“You know I won’t behave.”

“You know I’ll fuck you anyway.”

And with that, they both drifted off to sleep, their breathing slow and in sync with one another.


End file.
